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<title>I dreamt last night of a sign that read "the end of love" by captain_emmajones</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357606">I dreamt last night of a sign that read "the end of love"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_emmajones/pseuds/captain_emmajones'>captain_emmajones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But they will meet, F/M, S3, and what if Killian was suspicious there was more to this life than just this?, only they don't know each other, set between 3x11 and 3x12, what if both Emma and Killian were sent to NYC, what if there was an anomaly in Regina's curse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:08:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_emmajones/pseuds/captain_emmajones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU canon divergence from 3x11: There is an anomaly in Regina’s curse. Somehow, both Emma and Killian find themselves strangers in New York City. She is still a bail bond person, and he teaches Literature in middle school. As things go, they meet one summer evening, at a bar. The warm, summer air is full of promises as their story unfolds. But Killian cannot shake the bad feeling that lingers in his chest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Hook | Killian Jones &amp; Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I dreamt last night of a sign that read "the end of love"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This came to my mind this morning while listening to Florence + The Machine "The End of Love", and I had to write it &lt;3 Hope you guys will like this, and I promise I'll get back to my prompts &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>“When one is alone and lonely, the body</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>gladly lingers in the wind or the rain, </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>or splashes into the cold river, or</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>pushes through the ice-crusted snow. </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Anything that touches.” </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>-- Mary Oliver. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He remembered drifting away, on a boat. He remembered how heavy his eyelids had felt, how much sleep was threatening to swallow him once and for all.</p><p> </p><p>And how peaceful, it had felt, to drift away in between Lethe’s gentle waves, watching the moon and the stars shine in this dark, summer night.</p><p> </p><p>The water almost completely drowned him, but he wasn’t afraid. He was surrendering completely to the sea.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t been held in such gentle and loving arms in centuries.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>He woke up in his bed, with a weird pang that lingered with him the entire day. He brushed it aside, in the back of his head, and comfortably stretched.</p><p> </p><p>For the first time in ages, he woke up eager to start his day. He had no idea why, but it was a very nice tingling sensation spreading in his chest. He smiled. It was a good life.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>He spent his day in one of New York’s middle school. He taught Literature there.</p><p> </p><p>(Liam would have made fun of him, he thought. For the first time in years, thinking of his brother did not steal his breath away. It remained a gentle, quiet pain in his heart, and there was relief in that.)</p><p> </p><p>“Now, who would like to give me their thoughts on Sterne’s <em>Sentimental Journey</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>A general groan answered him, and he had a very soft eye over his exhausted student. The most exhausted ones had buried their young heads between their arms, while others held on to their very last straw of awareness, their chin resting in their hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, mates. I know I am your last hour of the day, but give me a little something…”</p><p> </p><p>One hand finally answered his plea, and he thanked his student with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Henry?”</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>That Friday night, Killian offered himself a glass on rum at the bar down the street to celebrate the end of the week.</p><p> </p><p>“The usual, thank you,” he smiled at the dark-haired waitress. He was a regular.</p><p> </p><p>She stared at him a little longer than she would have on any other customer, but he did not act as if he noticed her attention.</p><p> </p><p>He had no desire to date anyone. Hadn’t had in years, after his wife’s death – Milah, a gentle soul taken away by cancer.</p><p> </p><p>After all these years, he had succeeded in sheltering peace in his heart and was very unwilling to bring someone new into his life.</p><p> </p><p>At least, that’s what he thought. But that night, Fate was quite determined to prove him otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>As he was drinking alone, scanning his surroundings – the Compass wasn’t a very fashionable place to be but it was welcoming – he noticed her.</p><p> </p><p>The blonde haired woman standing next to him at the bar.</p><p> </p><p>For some unknown, irrational reason, he felt drawn to her and did not manage to look away.</p><p> </p><p>She was wearing a pair of black pants and a lovely, red off-the-shoulder top. He could tell she was dressed up to meet someone. But if he could make any assumption based on the way she lowered her face towards a glass of rum, that someone was late.</p><p> </p><p>A sparkle lit in his heart. He had to try and see.</p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat, touched his ear in an embarrassed gesture. He hadn’t done this in years.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh come on, Killian. You’ve got one bloody chance. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He stood up, but she made no movement to show she had noticed his unrest.</p><p> </p><p>Gathering his courage, he stepped closer to her, but not too close as to not invade her personal space, and greeted her: “Hello love, are you expecting someone?”</p><p> </p><p>Her green eyes flashed in the dim light of the bar. She considered him for a few seconds before answering. He noticed how truly beautiful she was. He could tell she was analyzing him, was trying to decide whether he was a threat or not.</p><p> </p><p>And finally, a smile birthed on her red lips. “I was, actually,” she began, and he was scratching his hair again, heart pounding, “His loss,” she finally muttered, and he completely failed to hide the smile that tickled his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Bad form,” he whispered, and pointed at the empty seat next to her, “would you mind if I sat there?”</p><p> </p><p>She removed her purse from the seat. “Not one bit. Couldn’t let a man drink alone, could I?”</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing their drinks, they both decided to fully enjoy this summer night and go sit outside – beneath the lit up trees of the terrace.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I do wish New York did not snuff out the stars,” he mumbled, head lifted towards the sky.</p><p> </p><p>For as long as he could remember, there had been a peculiar longing in him, in his chest, a longing for wilder landscapes and the salt of the sea on his lips, and,…Emma apparently.</p><p> </p><p>“Dreamer much, are you?” she grinned at him behind her glass, and he found her especially endearing with this blush over her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Aye. Always fancied more books than real life, I’m afraid.”</p><p> </p><p>And then she was nodding at him as if she understood, and it profoundly moved him. An old devotion, it seemed, was taking him over.</p><p> </p><p>“What about you, Emma?” Saying her name had a special taste in his mouth, but he loved it. “What do you dream about?”</p><p> </p><p>It was a fairly personal conversation for a first date beneath New York’s starless sky, but she didn’t seem to mind it, just yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Not much, to be fair,” she answered, her long fingers wrapping around her glass, as if to protect herself, “I’m pretty content with my life, right now,” she confessed, diving into his eyes again.</p><p> </p><p>She stole his breath away. He instinctively bent towards her. “But surely you have dreams, don't you Emma?”</p><p> </p><p>She did not come closer to him and remained sitting up straight. She whispered: “Why do you care?”</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it would have hurt, in another life, had he been sober. But already a bit tipsy, he did not take it personally.</p><p> </p><p>He simply smiled. “Everyone dreams.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I dreamt of you. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>She chuckled, brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’m not a dreamer.”</p><p> </p><p>He could tell, because of the broken sparkle that shone in her gaze, this very same sparkle that lead him to think he knew her from <em>before</em>.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>There were many drinks. Perhaps one too many.</p><p> </p><p>She gave away subtle details about her life: her profession, her son, the fact that she had just moved to New York, just like him.</p><p> </p><p>In spite of how little she told him, he swore he could read her like an open book.</p><p> </p><p>Summer seemed to fill his heart with a new kind of spontaneity, freedom, and he felt like a very young man, once again. The air was filled with smells of smoke, alcohol, perfumes, and this very special summer breeze.</p><p> </p><p>They had gotten closer in the booth, outside. Their thighs and shoulders were brushing, and she was looking at him behind her heavy eyelashes and he wanted to kiss her.</p><p> </p><p>He was waiting for her to kiss him. He knew she wanted him just as badly in the way she licked her lips and glanced at his own mouth when he was talking.</p><p> </p><p>Only later would he learn that she couldn’t have cared less about literature and the modernist movement he was rambling about that night, but she had let him speak because he was very charming.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, imagine our historical background, Emma. Think World War I, it’s a shock to so many people, and of course people write about it. They write about this sense of loss, and cruelty, and what makes us human if not love, but we are so fragmented…”</p><p> </p><p>And he went on, and on. And she was smiling, one hand beneath her chin.</p><p> </p><p>“Killian?” One word finally cut him, and he inhaled – a little out of breath from all of his talking.</p><p> </p><p>“Emma?” he answered back, heart jumping in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>A very soft hand found his jaw and drew him nearer to her. Her open mouth met his lips in a tiny whisper of contentment, and it was a very soft kiss. Her lips were barely brushing his, both her hands lost in his hair. He exhaled into her mouth, found her blonde curls, and kissed her just a little bit harder, pressing her into the booth.</p><p> </p><p>Once again, a feeling lingered in him. <em>They had done this before. But he couldn’t remember when. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>They casually saw each other for two months, and they were both pretty happy with that. (She was very happy about it. Him, a lot less.)</p><p> </p><p>Until one evening, as they were watching a movie at his place, he finally asked her. She wasn’t looking at him, completely captivated by Amy Addams analyzing Alien’s language on their screen.</p><p> </p><p>In spite of the quality of the movie <em>Arrival</em>, he couldn’t stop staring at her. (She still felt very precious between his arms, and an explicable fear reigned in his heart. He was scared to lose her, as if he had already lost her before.)</p><p> </p><p>“Emma?”</p><p> </p><p>She had a grunt, still not staring at him. “Yes, Killian?”</p><p> </p><p>“A word?”</p><p> </p><p>She must have heard the concern in his voice because she pressed pause and turned towards him immediately. She gave him a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Do talk.”</p><p> </p><p>He held his breath. He knew this was the moment of truth. He couldn’t keep up this casualness, but what if it was all she wanted?</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just, I’ve been thinking…” She was already raising her eyebrow, but he could tell she was trying to remain open. “And if you’d be willing, I would like us to become exclusive…”</p><p> </p><p>He hoped he had phrased it correctly. He really hoped he did.</p><p> </p><p>She tilted her head to the side. Took a few seconds to answer. “Actually, I would like that, too.”</p><p> </p><p>It took him some time to fully understand her sentence, sirens ringing in his ears, but then she was smiling at him and it couldn’t be so bad?</p><p> </p><p>Before he knew it, they were kissing, and he never wanted it to end.</p><p> </p><p>Had it always been this simple?</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Figuring out that when she was mentioning her son, Henry, she really meant <em>his</em> Henry, did make him stop a bit and think about what they were doing.  </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you think it’ll be awkward for the boy?” he asked her.</p><p> </p><p>They were sitting on her couch – Henry was sleeping over at a friend’s. Her knees were pressed to her chest, and she was barefoot against the soft tissue. She chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about that, Henry is a big boy. He’ll be able to understand.”</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t explain this sudden lump in his throat, this feeling that things were a bit too easy and it didn’t feel real, and – then she was on top of him, and she looked so beautiful, and fragile, with her golden hair, and he wanted to touch her but he was terrified she was going to vanish.</p><p> </p><p>Even her kisses started to feel distant. It froze his heart.</p><p> </p><p>He still let her.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Later, much later, when they were both sitting on the patio of her building, feet tangling in the void, and September was swallowing the last summer nights, he knew it to be the end.</p><p> </p><p>He gazed at her, drank her in. She wasn’t looking at him, but there was a smile on her lips as she stared at the busy streets of New York. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t real, was she?</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you known?” Her voice finally broke the silence surrounding them in this hubbub of cars.</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed a pain he felt he had known his entire life, but wasn’t fully aware of.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. From the beginning, maybe.”</p><p> </p><p>She turned to face him, smiling but it wasn’t a smile – it was goodbye. She outstretched her hand then, and it was very reluctantly that he let her touch him. It was too painful.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to forget me, aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>She nodded. He felt a tear roll down his cheeks. He wanted the comfort of the sea. This ache in his chest wouldn’t be soothed by anything but the sea.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want to, Hook,” and there it was, that terrible, sympathetic smile on her lips.</p><p> </p><p>The street lights around them became overwhelming, burnt his eyes. “But you did it anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a bit of anger, in the corners of his heart, a bit of bitterness inside his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I know I did,” she finally whispered. Her fingers were brushing his hand, an open wound. She seemed to hold back herself then, and that’s when he noticed that the contours of her face were becoming blurry.</p><p> </p><p>Panic shook his heart. He let go of her hand to rub his eyes with haste. He felt an open palm on his shoulders, but he couldn’t see her properly anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re disappearing,” he exhaled, panicked.</p><p> </p><p>His hand found her shoulder in a desperate attempt to hold her. But his fingers only found void.</p><p> </p><p>He could still feel her fingers on his jaw, and he leaned into her touch. “I am, Hook.” She paused, pressed a kiss on his cheek, and it felt like a summer breeze. “That’s why you should move on.”</p><p> </p><p>A sob seemed to jolt his shoulders. “I tried, Swan. I really tried.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>He was thankful the sea had reached his eyes, but it prevented him to see the final smile she offered him. “But you should, Hook. I won’t come back.”</p><p> </p><p>He already felt like he was dying, suffocating, but then she exhaled a final warning: “Don’t come looking for me.”</p><p> </p><p>And she was gone, gone in sparkles of dust and he was alone in a summer night that tasted like the end of love.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He opened his eyes, breathed in deeply. The wood of the Jolly was singing that night, for the sea was quite agitated.</p><p> </p><p>His hand came to meet his forehead. Another nightmare. He had received the note telling him to found Emma a week ago, and since then his dreams had been haunted by the lass he had so desperately tried to forget this past year.</p><p> </p><p>He glanced at the window of his quarters. It was still complete darkness outside. Stars were shinning bright, and the sea was caressing his window with a lot of care.</p><p> </p><p>There was a sob curled up in his throat. He clenched his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>He would find her. Even if it meant losing her again. (Even if, just yet, she didn't want him to find her.)</p><p> </p>
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